Lust (15 page)

“Tom knows what I'm about to say. From now on, we do not know each other. This is the most dangerous leg of our trip. We're the most vulnerable here. We still do not know exactly who took Tom, but if the government is involved, they're going to have agents looking for us at the airport.”

“They can't hold us. We can cause an international incident,” Jake said.

“They can't arrest us legally, but they can ‘disappear' us—we can be kidnapped easily. Try to stay in sight of official police whenever possible. Everybody have bribe money ready. And if you see someone else captured, keep going. An airport isn't the place for any kind of vigilante justice. Security is too tight. And if we all get taken, nobody knows where we are. The only chance we'll have is if one of us gets out and contacts someone to help us.”

“And who the hell would that be?” Gaia demanded to know. “I needed you to get here in the first place.”

“Don't worry. Your father has even better contacts than I do,” Oliver pointed out. “But if worst comes to
worst, I left information in my apartment. Whoever makes it back to the States can start the process over again. Or not,” he said, with a glance at Tom. “That would be your choice.”

He handed out their documents, rubles, and tickets. “Well, it's been nice knowing you,” he said. “The Metro is down this corridor and to the right. You're taking the yellow line to the airport. Can't miss it.” The door flopped shut behind him, and Oliver was gone.

Tom turned to Gaia. “Okay, I'm sticking to the plan,” he said dubiously. “I hope you're right about this.”

Gaia hugged him, careful not to dislodge his faux goatee. “I'll see you on the airplane,” she said. “Just be careful.”

She and Jake held hands—almost like a real couple, Gaia thought. As they left the closet and boarded the train, she saw their reflections in a window. It was amazing: After the night on the gross train, the days camping, they looked just like a shaggy hippie couple. It surprised her a little to see herself looking so normal. What surprised her more was how much she liked it. Not just looking normal, but looking normal holding hands with Jake.

She pulled her hand back. Not rudely. Just kind of slipped it out of his and pretended to be looking for something in her pocket.

“What are you looking for?” Jake asked. “Everything okay?”

“Yep, fine,” she said, patting her leg like she'd just found whatever it was. The conditioned response she'd been having against normalcy had passed. When Jake reached for her hand again, she couldn't think of an excuse in the world not to let him.

And it felt really good. To let him hold her hand.

He looked down at her, smiling, like they were both in on a secret plan. Which, of course, they were. Except Gaia had the sudden realization that there was more between them than a shared mission and a Siberian adventure. She tugged his hand and looked up at him.

“I don't want you getting any ideas,” she said.

“Ideas?” he asked.

“About us. When we get back to New York, we're still just friends. Really good friends. But that's all.”

Jake looked at her, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, okay.”

He kept her hand in his and gazed out the window of the train. Gaia tried not to feel disappointed that he wasn't arguing his case.

“You're okay with that?” she asked.

“Sure,” Jake said. “Just friends. That's okay.”

Once they arrived at the airport, Gaia and Jake stepped off. She looked up and down the long platform; sure enough, Oliver had been in the first car, her father in the third. She tried to pace herself so she'd always remain about thirty feet behind them—not so
close that they looked like they were traveling together, but not so far that she couldn't keep a close eye on everyone in her group.

The act of entering the airport and looking for their gate was easy. All they had to do now was get through the metal detectors and walk onto the plane. The airport was mobbed with people, teeming with tourists and business travelers. There was no way someone was going to mess with them here. Besides, the guards were about a hundred times more serious here than in JFK Airport in New York. For one thing, they carried Uzi machine guns. For another thing, they looked like they knew how to use them.

Gaia almost started to relax when Oliver made it through the metal detector and headed up the ramp toward their gate. She could see Tom's black ponytail as he waited his turn to go through the metal detector. Near him were two local police officers who looked no more official—or trustworthy—than the one who'd tailed her on the L train. They walked over to Tom, asking a few questions.

“I'm sure it's all right,” Jake murmured, returning the squeeze she didn't know she was giving his hand.

It wasn't. It didn't seem to be. Now they pulled him out of the line, off to the side. He was answering their questions calmly, giving a perfect imitation of an
annoyed but cooperative dude on the move. But they were eyeing him in a way that made Gaia uneasy. She started to move toward him. Jake jerked her hand back.

“We're on orders not to stop,” he said.

“But Oliver's through,” she said.

“Gaia. Orders. Stop it,” Jake pleaded.

Gaia took her eyes off her father to make sure Oliver was through. If she saw him board the plane, she would go after her dad. Jake could go back with Oliver, and at least she'd be here to keep him company—with the kidnappers. Or in jail, or whatever. She wasn't going to leave him—

That was strange.

“What the—?”

Oliver had stopped to look back. He seemed to glance through the metal detectors, as though he were checking on them. She saw his eyes pass over her, then stop on her dad. Oliver's demeanor seemed to change a bit. He stiffened. What was he thinking? He was supposed to keep moving. His own orders.

She watched as he moved backward slowly, smoothly, almost like he was on roller skates. Without even turning around, he stepped inside a doorway and disappeared.

It was not the gate to the plane. Oliver was off course. She had no idea where he was, what he was doing, or what was happening.

He's deserting us
, she thought. The thought
struck her with the full force of agony and betrayal.
My God. My dad was right. He turned us in, and now he's going to get his payoff. And I'm going to be captured next.

She looked up at Jake. He'd seen Oliver disappear and looked puzzled. He turned his eyes to her.

How do I tell him?
she thought.
We're dead. Oliver's gone. We're about to get snagged, and there's not a goddamned thing we can do.

It was amazing to watch how the mirror-image men, Tom in his goatee and Oliver in his regular face, dusted themselves off in exactly the same way.

Uzi Attention

GAIA WATCHED IN HORROR AS TOM
desperately but quietly tried to talk his way out of being detained. She couldn't stare at him openly—she was still hoping not to be recognized herself—so she was stuck in a frustrating and spastic dance of stealing quick glances and then looking away as if she didn't care.

But even the other passengers were beginning to notice what was going on. None of them liked the attitude of the pseudocops/kidnappers—Gaia knew that was what they were—hassling Tom. Before any real officers had a chance to notice them, the kidnappers took Tom by the arm and started to lead him away from the metal detectors.

Gaia stepped forward to interfere. All bets were off. If Oliver wasn't going to stick to the plan, then she wasn't going to either.

“Look,” Jake said.

Oliver was stepping back out of the door. But he had taken off his disguise. Gaia breathed in sharply.

“Is he an idiot?” she asked.

Oliver patted his pockets as if he were just a regular Joe Tourist who thought he'd forgotten something. He stepped over to the metal detector and spoke to a
security guard. The guard nodded, and waved Oliver . . . back through to the main terminal.

“Oh my God, where's he going?” Gaia breathed.

“He's going to get caught for sure,” Jake said.

“I think . . . oh my God, I think that might be the point.”

Oliver—Oliver, with his twin-of-Tom face—stood at the other end of the bank of metal detectors, looking around like a lost tourist. Showing his face to anyone who might be curious about him. Or looking for him. Or looking for someone who resembled him. Sure enough, almost immediately, he was approached by two more fake cops.

Gaia looked back over at Tom. His kidnappers had stopped short as their walkie-talkie squawked. The ones on the other side—the ones with Oliver—spoke intensely into their walkie-talkies. Each group was convinced he had Tom Moore, the escaped prisoner from Siberia. And each was telling someone—some central operative, giving them orders—that they had him.

If it hadn't been so nerve-racking, it would have been funny, Gaia had to admit. First Tom's captors tried to walk him out the door. Then they were ordered to stop, and the other captors headed for the opposite door. Neither group could see the other—by conicidence, Gaia and Jake were situated perfectly between them. But both groups were starting to attract attention. And neither wanted to give up
their prize or lose credit for bringing in the quarry.

Gaia could guess exactly what was happening. Each group was trying to take credit for capturing Tom Moore. And each side was saying, “Those other guys don't have him. They have the wrong guy.
We
have the real Tom Moore.” And as far as they knew, they were right. But the guy in the middle had to be getting frustrated.

Gaia just hoped he'd get really frustrated.

It was absolutely brilliant, what Oliver had done. By seeming to be Tom Moore, he'd created a perfect decoy. He had successfully confused the operatives so much, they were tripping over their own feet and messing up their own plan.

Of course, if it backfired, he'd be in that Siberian prison instead of Tom. Gaia watched anxiously, dividing her gaze spasmatically between her father and her uncle. The bad guys were waiting too long. They were arguing too much. They were attracting attention to themselves. Airport security attention. Uzi attention . . .

With a rush of relief, she saw similar packs of legitimate lawmen approach the two packs of would-be Tom-takers. Asking why they were bothering these tourists. Sending them on their way.

“Oh my God,” Jake said. “They did it.”

“
He
did it,” Gaia added. “Oliver did. He distracted them long enough to get the real cops involved. He saved my dad.”

“Again,” Jake said.

Gaia nodded. She was painfully aware of that, and felt horrible for having thought there was even a dollop of Loki still in Oliver.

It was amazing to watch how the mirror-image men, Tom in his goatee and Oliver in his regular face, dusted themselves off in exactly the same way. Each one thanked the guard graciously, turned, and strolled unhurriedly through his metal detector. On the other side, they were both funneled into the same corridor, where they stood almost face-to-face, paused, and then walked, pretending not to know each other, to the gate.

By that time, Gaia was at her metal detector, too. She stepped through, then waited for Jake to follow her. She was surprised to find herself trembling from the tension of the moment. She had never seen such an elegantly choreographed yet accidental operation in all her life. It was high drama of the quietest kind. She swallowed hard and stepped through the gate onto her airplane. It was all she could do not to stop and jump for joy.

They were nearly there.

Suspicions

GAIA WAS WORRIED ABOUT THE
plane ride back. She was going to have to tell her
father about Natasha, and that was going to shatter him. She wasn't sure if he was back in control of his faculties quite yet. She didn't want to risk a confrontation between him and Oliver. Regardless of the way he'd helped them, Tom would no doubt hold Oliver responsible for Natasha's betrayal.

As a precaution, Gaia made sure her father sat at the extreme left side of the plane, and that Oliver sat on the extreme right. She even put both men in window seats. She was going to straighten this out, once and for all, and she didn't want her father distracted by Oliver's presence. The last thing she needed was an argument on her hands. On a twelve-hour flight, no less.

Once she had Tom settled, she walked across to Oliver. He and Jake had found a travel version of chess and were setting up the pieces, arguing quietly over who would get to be black.

“Oliver,” she said. “I saw what you did.”

He didn't look up. “Are you going to yell at me for going against my own orders?” he asked.

She laughed softly. “No. It was amazing.”

He lined up the black pawns on his side of the board. “It was the least I could do,” he said.

“If you'd been caught—”

“I would have dealt with the consequences.” Oliver looked up. “I appreciate what you're saying, but it's not necessary. I just did what needed to be done. And it worked.”

Gaia shook her head in admiration. Oliver was proving himself again and again and again. She could see that Jake totally admired him, too. Of course, he didn't understand the extent of what Oliver had done as Loki. But it was obvious how hard he was trying now.

“You'll be okay over here?” she asked Jake.

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “Go sit with your dad. We'll be back in New York in no time.”

Her father. Who she was going to be sitting next to for the next twelve hours or so, with no excuse not to give him the worst news he could ever hear.

“Hey,” she said, flopping into her own seat next to him. “Now we can relax, right?”

“I suppose.” Tom's gaze slipped across the plane, toward Oliver. He was nervous. He knew what Oliver had risked to get him on this plane—but he was a good agent, and he wasn't letting go of his suspicions. Gaia decided to let it go. No reason to force the issue. If Oliver really were reformed, her dad would figure it out in his own time.